Jump to content

Paris by Moonlight (IC)


Supercape

Recommended Posts

November 18th, 2011, Freedom City

"Oui, Marcel, Oui" said Rene, frowning slightly as he put down his slightly antiquated phone.

He had not seen Marcel for some time, but the two men knew each other well enough that they could always speak as if they had only spoken the day previously.

Marcel was a lowly sewer cleaner by day, but was also familiar with the magical arts - if not as powerful as the heroes of Freedom City, he was still astute and had his wits around him. And he was a member of Legio de Halbediers, the centuries old order set up prior by King Loius, which had survived the revolution and become a small and loosely knit group of French mystics and magicians devoted to protecting France from perils arcane. The order was informal at best, and had no leader, just a roster. And Rene was on it.

Paris was under threat it seemed. Another spate of murders, impossible murders, cause of death unknown, shrunken bodies, and stories of fleeting shadows.

It was impossible to tell what was going on, although Marcel had gathered this much. The thing was fast. It would take some catching.

Rene was a master of matters arcane, but thief catching was something he hadn't done for over a century. He needed a better pair of eyes. And legs, for that matter.

So, not relishing the possibility of the more gruesome arcane rituals which would literally give him an extra pair of eyes or legs, he resorted to the phone. He so happened to know a Fremchman with just what he wanted...

"Marceau? Its Rene? How would you feel about a little trip to Paris?"

Link to comment
  • Replies 138
  • Created
  • Last Reply

Top Posters In This Topic

Scarce seconds later...

The well-mounted phone that served suite #407 was by now pitted, scarred and slightly bent. It had been used as a club to brain a careless burglar, been the subject of innumerable tug-of-wars and more than once had called the Freedom League by some mistake of its injured wiring. Otherwise, it worked perfectly.

A lithe young man had snatched the phone from the iron grip of a heavily-bearded man in faded clothes, and settled down on top of a curiously ornate chest in the middle of a dingy apartment in the Fens district of Freedom. At the familiar voice his blue eyes had lit up with excitement. "Hello, Marceau Suv-ah, Rene! What's that? Trip to Paris?! I'd love to my friend!"

Sliding off of the chest, he hurriedly began to strap on the arsenal of weapons he possessed, his mind buzzing with the possibilities that awaited in the nigh-legendary city of Paris! I've always wanted to go there he thought excitedly as he strapped on the red breastplate on which was affixed the white diamond, the suit symbol he used most often in his vigilante work I wonder what it is that he wants help with? Maybe there's been a theft from the Louvre! Or someone;s stolen the Arc De Triomphe! he listened attentively as he refilled the pockets of his cape

Link to comment

A little later, Rene's flat...

"Come in, come in!" said Rene, beckoning Marceau into his house. It was a rather old, but magnificent house, three stories, and many rooms - most of them in good repair. Of course, Rene's pride was the loft conversion - now his artist studio, full of clutter, canvas, and paint, and with excellent natural sunlight.

"Now then, no need to bother with all of that plan nonsense" he said, as he showed Marceau up to the top floor "Just a wallet full of francs...now where did I put them..." he started rummaging around. The flat had plenty of money in it, although finding it was not so easy, and it came in all sorts of all denominations.

Rene slapped his head.

"Euro's!" he said with disdain, before finding a wad of notes and stuffing them into his wallet.

He picked up his paintbrush, beret, and talisman (Which he strung around his neck), and then stuffed a small picture of his home into his waistcoat.

"For ze return journey" he explained, whilst patting his coat down.

"Now then, I think that is everything. Have you brought everything you need? we may be a day or two..."

Link to comment

Marceau shook his head, suppressing a smirk as best he could at Rene's enthusiastically scatter-brained manner "<I have all I need, my dear friend, and if I should ever run low on supplies, I would just have to whisper in the ear of a young lady who works for a local branch of Cycleurope and I would be quickly re-supplied. The House of Suits has branches all over Europe, even as far west was here in Paris!>"

He glanced out a window at the metropolis outside, a dim memory of seeing it from the water years ago seeping up for a fleeting instant before vanishing again. "<This is a wonderful place, Rene, but I don't think you have told me yet why you wished to see me. I dare say you didn't call me across the ocean to see the(no doubt glorious)sights this place has to offer. Understand that I will gladly help no matter what it is, be it monsters from Hell or an estrangement with a friend of yours>" he reached out and put his arm around the old man's shoulders, looking earnestly at him "<What's happening Rene?>"

Link to comment

"<What's happening Rene?>"

Rene started shuffling through some rather larger pictures of Paris. He was looking for a more unobtrusive street, somewhere they can arrive without being noticed.

"Murder, my friend. And not your regular type"

He let that sink in a moment.

"I'll explain. Paris has a small order of...guardians, ze Legio de Halbediers. They are old and somewhat secretive, with no leader, but they are still sworn to protect France from ze more, mysterious threats. Today, I was contacted by one their number, Marcel Allesour. There have been a number of mysterious deaths in Paris, and..ze signs point towards a threat from beyond..."

He sighed, before bringing out a small picture of a side street of Paris.

"Aha, here we are, this will do nicely!"

Link to comment

Marceau's eyes widened at Rene's words. He had to admit, this sort of thing was hardly what he had hoped he'd do in a city like Paris. But, he reflected I dare say a lot of the heroes who go to Freedom never think they'll end up fighting moving trees or whatever, so something like this happening should really be anticipated

"<Should have expected this>" he murmured gloomily.

Still, there was one small matter he needed cleared up to understand the situation better: "<What 'beyond' is this Rene? Hell? Some shadow realm? The land of fairies I hear is an unpleasant place, is this murderous force from there?>" he shuddered a little despite himself. He had once been to the Schattenwelt, and had a vague idea of how horrible the monsters from there could be here.

Link to comment

"<What 'beyond' is this Rene? Hell? Some shadow realm? The land of fairies I hear is an unpleasant place, is this murderous force from there?>"

Rene nodded sagely.

"Beyond" he began "is what we mages like to call places we dont understand. And usually, don't want to. It's the places we weren't meant to think about, let along visit" he said with some seriousness, as he placed the picture of Paris against the wall.

"So its really a term for anything that is not here. Not nice, not known, not sane. In other words, beyond..."

He coughed.

"In other words, stuff we don't know about...."

He trailed off, and bent over the picture studying it.

"So what I am saying to young man, is that we are dealing with something not of this world, about which I know almost nothing, but in all likelihood has nothing good to be said about it!"

He straightened up and looked at Marceau. He held his brush in one hand and pointed at the picture of the street.

"Ready?" he asked.

Link to comment

Oh wonderful Marceau thought angrily to himself My friend calls me to Paris, and when I get there it turns out he wants my help solving some arcane murder mystery none of his highly trained comrades have the least idea about, except that it's not from this world! vocally however he said only "<Of course Rene, against such a mystery I confess I may not be the best combatant, but I'm as ready as I could ever be to face this enemy>" smiling cheerfully at the old painter to belie the churning unease in his stomach. Thinking it might help to try and get an idea of what the Legio de Halberdiers had to work with he asked "<What kind of magicians does the Legio have on its roster? You obviously, but are mystic craftsmen and artists a major demographic of their society?>"

He wondered gloomily if it wouldn't have been best to go to some mystic and try to reawaken his powers. Remembering that of course Rene was one, and he had never even thought of talking to him about that, he almost gave himself a smack across the face,

Link to comment

"<What kind of magicians does the Legio have on its roster? You obviously, but are mystic craftsmen and artists a major demographic of their society?>"

Rene chuckled softly.

"Non, my friend, they are not" he cracked his knuckles. "And thank the powers that be for that. Magic is dangerous enough as it is. Too dangerous for magicians!" he added with a wink.

"They are scholars, psychics, historians, all sorts. One need not be able to command arcane powers in order to protect the world from them. All are wise to them, however, and staunch in their protection. Some are magicians, like myself, and Marcel, to a lesser degree. But the best defence is vigilance and wisdom, rather than strength..."

He thought for a moment. If this went well, the Legion could do with an extra member...whilst Marceau was no mage, he was competent enough and an expert investigator. They could do with someone with more mundane forensic skills....

"But enough, let us continue our conversation overseas!" he proclaimed, concentrating on the picture and waving his paintbrush over the canvas, distorting the image slightly so that the figures of Rene and Marceau starting appearing onto the picture...

...and in a way that could not be properly described, but resembled awakening from a dream - replacing one reality with another - the two Frenchman were standing on the cobbled streets of Paris.

Link to comment

"Magic is too dangerous to be used, and too dangerous to ignore, a common problem with such weapons I hear" muttered Marceau to himself.

As they were transported to the glittering city, the unpowered adventurer blinked as if awakening from a deep sleep, entirely appropriate given the effect the method of travel had on the mind and senses. The cobbles felt quite real to his inquiring boots, the air was heavy with the aroma of burnt petrol and the crisp dryness of night air. "If I didn't think this was real, I'd think it a brilliant copy" he commented lightly.

Gazing about his new surroundings he said softly "It's even lovelier than I thought" turning to the artiste he added "If this is the way true magicians travel, I can understand why they would become so comfortable with their power, it's like everything a child wants the world to be like. Anyway, where to mon ecletant amis? The house of the poor soul who was killed?"

Link to comment

"For that" replied Rene "I think we need to speak to Marcel. He knows the details, I do not"

With a wave of his hand, Rene hailed a taxi, and they were on their way to Marcel's house. It was not in a rich part of town, and it was not in good repair.

In short, Marcel lived in a run down house in a bad part of town. Life as a sewer worker did not pay well.

"A word of warning. Marcel is a sewer worker by day. And he has spied things down the sewers that should not be there, I can assure you" he said, tapping his nose. "So he is very valuable. And he is far from ignorant in sorcery. But, all those days down the sewers..."

He stopped as the taxi pulled to a halt and dutifully paid the driver.

"...well, lets say it makes his night vision very good, but you know, he never smells that good..."

Link to comment

Marceau was well-used to living in places of sub-optimal repair, construction and aroma. Nonetheless the heavy, ever-present scent of sewage was still enough to send thrills of slight nausea down his throat whenever the sight of the decaying buildings reminded him all too often of his current home in the Fens. He listened closely to Rene's exposition of this Marcel character, nodding grimly at the closing sentence "<I've known a lot of people like that, I met some street cleaners in India who those around gave a wide berth to on the roads, and I've shared quarters with people who smelled far worse than a sewer, difficult as that is to imagine. I don't think it'll be unbearable>"

Getting out of the taxi, he thanked the driver profusely, and surveyed the slowly crumbling apartments, dingy diners and gleaming streets..Wait what? Oh right, very strict public cleanliness policies he reminded himself sheepishly.

Glancing up at the neon signs littering the perceivable sky, he commented idly "<Not precisely tourism-friendly around here. I wonder how many people live here just for that reason alone?>"

Link to comment

"<Not precisely tourism-friendly around here. I wonder how many people live here just for that reason alone?>"

"" replied Rene, as he knocked on Marcel's door.

"

Marcel had a warm, friendly face, with a small scar above one eye. He was unshaven, but somehow he mixed scruffy with respectable. He was probably in his early fourties, and half=-sported a moustache. His hair was receding and did not look clean. His mouth was broad like his face, and his smile was large and generous.

Rene gave Marcel a brief embrace.

""

He paused "

He gave a lax salute.

"" said both Men, as Marcel took them inside his house. It was, as Rene had said, somewhat ramshackle, but had assorted quaint bric a brac in it that made it quite homely. And some of the decor and objects in it did look vaguely arcane and mysterious.

Marcel put on some coffee for them all without asking.

"" he said, acknowledging Marceau "

Link to comment

The rustily-clothed man smiled awkwardly at Rene's praise, but kept quiet until the other man had addressed him pointedly "<Well aside from how it is the most beautiful city on this or any other planet, he has informed me that there has been murderous attacks lately by some unknown force from what he described as simply 'Beyond', which is to say nothing is known except that we don't know what it is. I doubt it will leave much evidence that you haven't already found, but I hope I can at least help decipher it>" he glanced around the room "<I confess to having had little but the most immediate and practical experience with the arcane mysteries mister Marcel, and I dare say your understanding of its subtleties will be of immeasurable help to me>"

Link to comment

GM

Marcel sat Rene and Marceau down in some battered Sofa's and gave them both coffee in slightly chipped mugs. The man was jovial, and seemed to not to care one bit about his ramshackle surroundings. He just got on and enjoyed life.

"" he began ""

""

"<..to put it mildly>" he added, holding his head in his hands. ""

He paused.

"

Link to comment

Marceau stared at Marcel for several seconds, his jaw slightly ajar. After a time, he realized this and quickly closed it, muttering "<You pardon, sirs>". That accomplished, he settled in for a close examination of what he could understand about the case: a Babylonian spirit from the underworld was involved in people being killed in horribly bloody ways. The victims seemed to have no instantly obvious connection being of vastly differing social and economic strata, and this had been going on for a long while, perhaps for the last month or so.

He failed to see how he could possibly do a thing about it, but decided he might as well try to do something. Raising his head from where he had rested it on his folded knuckles he asked quietly "<Monsieur Marcel, would you be kind enough to show me the bodies of the victims? As well as the place where they were found?>" he looked over at Rene "<If that's impossible, I would at least like to look over any police records of the case>"

He wondered glumly if there were any clues left after such a gap of time.

Link to comment

GM

"Oui" replied Marcel, simply. He reached into a bookcase and pulled out a grubby folder full of disorganised, scruffy photocopied documents.

"Don't ask me how I got them" he said with a smile "Suffice to say I have ways and means..." he added with a cryptic tap of his nose to a little chuckle from Rene.

"All the police records are there. At least, all I could find. You could go to them for completeness, but you will have to go through a whirlwind of red tape, I am afraid. I prefer to...circumnavigate...such irritations if possible" he laughed.

"The reports are fairly complete. Pictures, details, times, locations. The first victim, the lady of the night, was found, cut up, disorganised, frenzied attack. Death due to blood loss. No conclusion as to murder weapon. The second, more systematic, but equally brutal. Decapitation, main arteries punctured, heart removed in almost surgical manner, not found. "

He reached over and poured himself a large glass of wine, furrowing his brow and sighing deeply.

"The third, I kept from the police. There was not much left to examine..." he said, drinking deeply. He seemed perturbed by the discovery.

Link to comment

The sight of something he could actually work with was deeply welcomed by the costumed adventurer, and his eyes gleamed as he took the documents and began rapidly examining them.

The gruesome deaths that they recorded did a great deal to dampen his lifted spirits, and he read gloomily over the records of internal and external injuries that tied a knot in his stomach. As he read over the list of misery, he suddenly realized something deeply important that the report had shown no interest in: both of the first two recovered victims had been killed from above, judging by the broken drainage pipe in the picture of the murdered prostitute and the broken pieces of what he discerned to be roof tiles nearby the body of the businessman. Something quick and heavy had attacked them from above, most likely a monster judging by the damage they had taken. This was obviously something the two magicians would be ideally suited to answering.

Looking back up at Marcel he asked curiously "<Marcel, what does this 'Gallu' look like?>"

Link to comment

GM

"<Marcel, what does this 'Gallu' look like?>"

Marcel grunted, not impolitely, and shuffled around to another corner of the room, disturbing various junk from the floor and the bookcase located there. After a few moments he pulled out a dusty old tome that he banged against his chest to dislodge the debris. Another few moments and he had located the page he wanted.

"Here" he said, stabbing a pudgy finger at some text written in Latin describing the beast. It seemed there was no concensus on its appearance...perhaps it did not even have a consistent one. However there was a powerful illustration on the page opposite - a ferocious, large, bull creature, wreathed in a fetid, toxic smoke.

"There...the bull" said Marcel, sitting down. "Although their forms change. And my resources are limited. I speak Latin, of course, but there are more books and more languages that speak of the Gallu...."

Link to comment

Marceau stared at the illustration. Then back at the pictures from the crime scenes. Then back again. A bull would be heavy, it could send roof tiles from their seats and break drainage pipes with ease. But one thing was wrong: even a super-powerful demon bull would make noise. It would roar and its hooves would awaken the heaviest sleeper beneath them. That and a bull could hardly cu out somebody's heart surgically.

Marceau realized it then: this 'Gallu' must be a shapeshifter going through various forms to kill people for their souls(he admittedly had no idea if demons could actually do this). Aloud he said "<So far, it appears that this 'Gallu' is the murderer responsible. Are there any records of a stench around the crime scene, reports by inhabitants of the sound of hooves? If not, it may well be that the demon can alter its form at will, explaining the variations in the victims' corpses>" he settled back into his chair, frowning at the ceiling as if he distrusted it. "<Also, what can you tell me about the body found in the sewer that you haven't already. May I see it as well?>"

Link to comment

GM

Marcel nodded, approving of Marceau's energy. "I don't know about the smells" he laughed "and believe me, I know all sorts of smells! but I wasn't there. Nobody was there at the time of the murders. I don't know if smelss would be in the police reports..."

He tapped his chin.

"But maybe we should see the crime spots ourselves, hmmm? and as for the last sorry victim, yes, I stored the remains away down in the sewers, if you wish to go. There are old and forgotten tunnels throughout the Parisian sewers, and old Marcel knows them all!"

Link to comment

Marceau got smoothly to his feet, eyes gleaming as he considered the twists and turns he would have to make sure of to keep himself on the right track with the investigation. "<Marcel, please bring me to where you have placed the third body, I'll need to expel a nagging suspicion about how these killings are being committed>" he began carefully secreting the documents into the dozens of pockets that covered his coveralls, but stopped, asking nervously "<Er, may I take these along Marcel?>" while awaiting the response he began loosening the various straps and small metal tabs he used to keep his armor and gear ready-to-don. He had the idea that Paris's sewer system might turn out to be dangerous.

Link to comment

"I think you will find some rubber boots more useful" chuckled Rene, as Marcel nodded. He had been down the sewers of Paris before, and the stench did tend to linger. He was sure Marcel had some spell or magical apparatus that could freshen a man up in a blink of an eye. He was equally sure that Marcel wouldn't use it out of his own somewhat perverted sense of humour and pride.

Rene stood up slowly and cursed. He should probably have concocted such a device himself. He could have, if he had had the chance. As it was, he would imagine they would be needing a fair bit of soap later on.

"But it as well to be safe" he added, as the King of Suits donned his armour. For his own part, he wore around his neck a powerful magical amulet that would shield him from assault. And he had no intention of taking that off.

"Onwards, Marcel, if you please!"

Later, in the sewers...

The walk was slow, dark, and, predictably, smelly. Marcel flashed his torch in front of him and seemed to have a clearer idea and greater confidence than his two charges, although he had equipped them both with torches too.

"Aha, 'ere we are!" he said, turning another corner and opening a creaky iron door. It lead into a small room full of fetid water that flowed in and out through unseen openings. A small pavement of concrete, covered in green algae, encircled the room.

"Hardly anyone knows of this room" he said.

Rene stopped, mumbling something about his old hips. "Hardly a tourist attraction, my friend" he commented, stretching out and rubbing his back.

"And here is your corpse", said Marcel, flashing his light at a broken figure lain on the concrete, all broken bones and torn flesh.

Link to comment

Marceau had almost enjoyed the trip. True the smell was awful, but he had to admit that even the French sewer system was cleaner than most he had slogged through on cold nights in Albania. He had liked listening to the gurgle of the smoothly-flowing sewage through the caverns, the graffiti that had been scraped away was an interesting test for his ability to translate French after so many months, and being in on a mystery that he could help solve was something he had always loved.

He had thrilled with excitement when Marcel had opened the door, reminding him of the old castles in Romania he had once been charged with searching. Bowing slightly to the ancient mage he had said "<I think I know a perfect place to go to after this Rene, near the->" he trailed away as he saw the corpse. A piercing ringing sounded in his ears and in a moment he was standing next to a stream in Cambodia, looking down at the rotting body of one of the warlord's soldiers that had washed up on the shore. A tiger must have got them he thought to himself, looking warily around at the strangely close trees for any sign of a tiger's burning eyes I'll see if they have anything worth having he decided, slinging his rifle over his shoulders he bent down over the body, gently turning it over to get at the pockets..

..and was in a sewer in Paris, looking down at a dead body that had badly decomposed. Starting, he glanced around and saw his two companions. He began to speak but cut himself off abruptly, laid the body back down and began his interrogation of the corpse, first examining the injuries sustained.

Link to comment

GM

The Corpse had been literally torn asunder, broken, smashed, and ripped almost to pieces. It was surprising there was much left - and what there was what rotting. The smell was overpowering - and, yes, slightly odd, a lingering smell of - sulphur? something putrid and unwholesome.

Whatever had attacked this woman was possessed of inhuman strength. It looked like tooth and nail had been employed, some wild and powerful beast. Poking around inside, in the dim light, the King of Suits eventually plucked out a small tooth that had jammed and broken off in the woman's spine.

"What that noise?" said Marcel, turning around and sweeping his flashlight through the water.

"Hmmm? I hear nothing, damn my old ears!" mumbled Rene, following slowly.

All of a sudden, from the water, a swarm of blackness jumped and ran like a living carpet, running around the feet of the three heroes and crawling up their legs, all damp fur, black eyes and white teeth. The whole sewer was alive!

Rats!

Link to comment
Guest
This topic is now closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...